


Pain Is Mandatory But Suffering Is A Choice

by fElBiTeR



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anger, Angst, Communication Failure, Dean Winchester Bears the Mark of Cain, Dreams, Epic Fail, Friends to Lovers, Jealousy, M/M, Mark of Cain, Matchmaker Sam Winchester, Oblivious Castiel, One-Sided Attraction, Pining Dean, Possessive Dean Winchester, Sam Ships It, Season/Series 09, Season/Series 10
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-05 08:04:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11009319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fElBiTeR/pseuds/fElBiTeR
Summary: The past year has happened so quickly and painfully that Dean can firmly say that he's officially solidified his gateway into hell. One, for bearing the Mark originally given to the Father of Murder. Two, because Dean's finally realized that every once in a while, his eyes tend linger at Cas' back when the angel is turned around. Was Cas even an angel anymore?Sam says that Dean is fooling a grand total of no one.





	Pain Is Mandatory But Suffering Is A Choice

**Author's Note:**

> Endgame of Destiel. Hopefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I wrote this a while back, during season 10, probably? I just changed a few things around, and I don't really know how this is gonna turn out. I'm also a jackass who can't stick to one story at a time, therefore an update will probably take up to a month. Ah shoot, I'm getting ahead of myself. Updates, psh. People actually have to somewhat enjoy this fic first.
> 
> Enjoy anyway ;)

On any other given day, Dean would’ve been glad to have a whole apple pie sitting in the main quarters of the bunker. He would’ve even been ‘ecstatic’, as Sam would have described him. But not today. And maybe not for the rest of his God forsaken cursed life.

The Mark hadn’t been acting up in quite a while, and he didn't have any sudden blood lust or urge to kill. Dean felt like Dean. Not the one who had been pulled out of hell, and certainly not the one from 10 years ago, but the full embodiment of himself. Maybe it had something to do with Dean experiencing life from a different perspective. A nonhuman perspective.

The Mark had only proved itself as problematic. Problem was, he and Sammy didn’t have any clue how to get rid of it. Hell, when Dean was a demon for a while, he didn’t even want to get rid it. He felt power and no attachments, much like Sam when his soul was left in the cage with Lucifer.

He remembered the pleasant shiver down his spine every time he beat the living crap out of something, and how his body seemed to eat up the adrenaline and endorphins that came with killing and killing—

Now all Dean felt like was horse crap dipped in a load of bullshit. And guilt. Oh yeah, the guilt was present all right. It was the one thing that Dean knew would never go away, not even with the strongest magic mojo purification. The lingering guilt, buried below the memories and emotion. Living right next to his time in Hell with Alastair.

And underneath all that was a small spark. The way his stomach felt floppy floppy when Cas invaded his space, or how pleased Dean felt contrarily to Sam’s frustration when he and Cas had conversations by staring deeply into one another, or when Cas flapped his dainty little angel wings and appeared next to Dean always scarin’ the crap outta him, as if it were the most normal thing to do. It was way past platonic, but neither men, he means to say neither man nor Angel of the Lord, had ever addressed this topic.

It was probably one sided anyway. Dean didn’t even know whether Cas understood what feelings were. Maybe he could define them, and match different gurgles in his heart to the words, but Cas didn’t understand them. Or maybe he did, after 6 years of being forced to follow Dean around. But if he did, he never expressed it. This, plus the whole ‘Angel of the Lord’ thing.

_I mean seriously? A friggin’ angel can’t fall in love with a man as steeped in sin as me, even if he lost his mojo and turned into a regular guy. Or is he using some other angel’s mojo? Either way._

Dean sporadically sighed like a schoolgirl who had the hots for her way-impossible-to-get-already-married science teacher. Or something. Sam definitely heard him sighing like a schoolgirl with a crush and tried his best to shoot Dean a ‘bitchface number sixty-eight’ while muttering incomprehensible insults under his breath. Dean could only grin back, a wolfish smile stretched across his face. Sammy’s pout deepened.

Sam stopped frowning as if he had just acquired an epiphany.

“You ought to do something about Cas,” Sam started slowly, because _oh no_ —

“I dunno what the hell you’re talking about, Sammy,” Dean retorted, taking a swig from an opened can of beer nearby. _Eughck_. Dean almost spit it out immediately, but choked it down. It was flat and acrid and had probably been sitting there for a while.

Sam peeked up again from behind his super nerdy book about… esoteric energy? Whatever the hell that was. Nerd.

“You know what I’m talking about, Dean. It’s so obvious—”

“Well, if it’s so obvious, then you should be able to see that I wanna leave it _alone_ ,” Dean snapped, cutting him off.

Sam, undaunted like the tall, mature, very-adult male he was, thought of something else, “It it the rejection? ‘Cos yeah, I get it, feelings for someone who doesn’t understand feelings. If you never try, then he’ll never learn to, I dunno, accept it and adapt to it?”

“Just shut up, Sammy,” Dean finally said after a moment of silence, because he couldn’t think of any other goddamned thing to say. He sipped at the old beer can. Dean would definitely rather taste this sour crap than answer Sam.

“Jerk.” The corner of Dean’s mouth twitched.

“Bitch.”

And that was the end of the day. Surprisingly, Dean found himself sleeping early, and _wow_ , actually falling asleep and dreaming about something other than hell and demons and monsters, because he hasn’t in a very long while. It’s probably a trick, or a projection sent by a witch, or another angel messing with his brain.

But when Dean sees cerulean blue eyes and a dirty trench coat wearing angel—yes, an angel, Dean will always see Cas as one, whether he was a human or a leviathan or even God—next to him, he stops thinking so much. Maybe Dean can allow himself to have a good thing every now and then.

They just stood besides each other, staring into a field of the most beautiful fauna and flora for the longest time, _Eden maybe_ , Dean thinks. The flowers were in different shades that Dean never even knew existed, most of them blue, blue like Cas’ beautiful eyes. They may have been Jimmy Novak’s at first, but Cas made those eyes glow with grace and knowledge. With the flowers came bees. And with the bees came surfacing thoughts of a beekeeper. Dean turn to Cas, but he was no longer there. In his place was a man with luscious hair and thoughts of calm as well as   _m u r d e r_  and then Dean understood. They stood besides one another, as Dean did with Cas before, staring into the glorious, beautiful garden of Eden. The extra buzzing of bees was a nuisance until it wasn’t. It turned into a hum, the music of the Earth even, a gift from God himself. And Cain was the beekeeper. Dean watched Eden, and he watched the beekeeper.

When Dean woke up, the buzzing was still faint in his ears. He’d only met Cain once, yet it was a deep and lasting impression. Impactful. Sammy wouldn’t understand, after all, he wasn’t the one that had tea with the Father of Murder.

But Dean hasn’t had a dream about murders stemming from the Mark for a while. Lucky him.

Dean tried closing his eyes to see if he could re-enter his dream and return to the garden, not wanting to dwell on how weird the shit he just dreamt up was, but, instead, he heard the rustling of angel feathers as he laid on the couch.

“Hey Cas,” he greeted the angel as he always did, his eyes still closed. He laced more more vigor in his voice than usual because maybe he’s found a new appreciation for Cas.

However there was no answer, so Dean slowly opened one sleepy eye, only for the world to reveal… _nothing_?

Everything was normal, no extra feathers or moved furniture or, _hey! No Cas, dammit_. He swore to God, there was an angel that flew into the bunker but the only one allowed in was Cas and a few select others who were now dead and _gone with the wind_ , so who the hell just waltzed in like they owned the place?

Dean leapt off his spot on the couch and reached for his gun, an angel blade ready in the other hand.

“Cas?” Dean called out, because w _ell if that’s Cas, then he’ll answer me and if not, I’ll gank whoever broke in here. Shoot first, ask questions later._

He stayed close to the walls as he inched closer to kitchen, where a clanging noise originated. It was as if the culprit wasn’t even trying to stay stealthy.

Dean rounded the corner, waited a few silent moments and then lunged at a woman? The woman squeaked and dropped whatever she was holding and shook her head. He held the angel blade to her throat.

“Why the hell are you here? What are you?” Dean demanded, not tricked by the woman’s incessant shaking.

“I—” she began.

“She’s with me,” a familiar gravelly voice said from behind him. Dean jumped and clutched a shaky hand to his chest. He definitely wasn’t frightened upon Cas’ arrival; after all this time, he should've gotten used to it by now.

“Jesus, Cas! What the hell?” Dean said, letting some relief seep into his words because _Cas was okay_ but _when did I start worrying so much for Cas’ safe being?_

“Hello, Dean. This is Hannah. She’s also an… angel. She’s the only one left after Metatron slaughtered a group of my brothers and sisters, so I’m providing her with temporary shelter,” Cas gestured towards her, voice blunt and straightforward as possible.

“Oh,” Dean said, unconsciously rubbing at his mark. He mechanically turned around and headed back to his spot on the couch. He could feel Cas’ laser stare attatched to back of Dean's head.

 _Go back to sleep_.

Dean could hear mindless chatter through the bunker walls and he wanted to tell them to _shut the hell up_ when he realized the one laughing was definitely male and certainly not Sammy. It was Cas, laughing freely and lightly and happily in the presence of another angel.

Dean attempted to wrap his feeble human mind around that single fact. Instead of understanding anything, he just grumbled to himself about ‘unloyal angels’ even though _that’s not true, brotha’ and you know you just gotta love him_. Those last two thoughts sounded suspiciously liked Gabriel. But Gabriel was dead, so who was he to talk?

He unclenched his left fist, although Dean doesn’t even remember forming it. Shit. He’s got a small problem.

Another string of laughter trickled from the kitchen. Dean groaned and threw an unneeded pillow in that direction. Maybe not so small a problem after all.

***

That’s how Sam found Dean when he returned from a small hunt from the night before. Dean continued staying sprawled out on the couch, unmoving and glaring holes into the bunker ceiling.

“Woah, PMS much?” Dean immediately shifted his glare onto Sammy. Sam held his hands up defensively, as if to say _eh, I’m a moose and I ain’t part of this._

Sam put down a small bag of groceries he nabbed on the way back.

“Hey, how’s the thing with Cas?” As if it were even possible, Dean’s glare hardened even more and _of course Sammy keeps poking his oversized head into my box. That came out wrong_. Sam rolled his eyes in response.

“Anyway, we have a case in Iowa. So get this, a truck killed its single occupant by driving itself off a bridge,” Sam read off a newspaper. “Demons? Possession?”

A case. _A case is nice. It’s a distraction and you know it, Dean-o_. The voice constantly changes every other time, and Dean suspects it may be the mark talking.

Sam looked at Dean strangely.

“What?”

“You’re awfully quiet for, well, you know.”

“So you want me to act all gangly on you and hound you with a gazillion questions too?” Dean shot back as they stepped outside the bunker.

“No, Dean, I’m just saying, you can tell me anything,” Sam spoke, and hastily added, “Yeah, no chick-flick moments, I know. I just want you to know you can say anything.” Dean does notice Sammy emphasising the word _anything_ , but doesn’t address it.

“Of course I can say anything I want, Sammy. I don’t know why you think otherwise,” Dean responded as he started his Baby, feeling a little smug because he’s managed to avoid the subject for just a bit longer. Sam sighed and just dropped the matter. “Pack it and let’s go.”

‘The Thing That Shouldn’t Be’ by Metallica started playing as soon as Dean turned up the volume. _Huh. I wonder If that’s a sign._ The music continued roaring as the Impala sped past Cas and Hannah walking into town on the roadside.

 _Angels walking into town_.

***

It’s when Sam and Dean get back from the case does life decide to screw with Dean.

When they return to the bunker, they find Cas positively beaming down at his phone, rapidly sending texts and not looking up as Dean and Sam as they stepped into the room. Dean’s heart sank to his stomach because Cas sure as hell ain’t texting him. He silently wished it were. When had Dean’s walls fallen down for Cas?

Dean could taste the sour and shriveled up beer from earlier at the back of his throat. He thinks he knows who Cas is texting, to make him so happy like this.

“I have personal matters to attend to tonight. I’ll be gone for awhile, and I apologize beforehand if any trouble comes up and you call for me,” Cas finally looked up. _A date_ .

And then Sam was smiling like the world wasn’t on fire around him like it was for Dean.

“Nice, Cas! Oh, hey Dean, do you have _any personal matters to attend to tonight_?” and Sam is still smiling. Dean hasn’t wanted to punch his brother in a long time, a  _lie_ , but he sure as hell wants to now.

Dean cleared his throat. “Of course I do. Uh, I gotta help B-” Dean begins, but _wait, Bobby is dead, damn you Dick Roman_ , so he finishes by saying, “build something, somewhere.” Because Dean is at a loss of words at the moment.

“Yeah, sure,” Sam has a brow raised and he’s questioning _Dean, wait, what_?

Cas has no response, however. His eyes were still glued to the screen of his phone.

“Nice of you to catch up to modern day technology, Cas,” Dean says, just for kicks.

Cas’ response was a quick and non-attached, “Mhm.”

Dean could feel his heart sink further past his stomach, probably into Hell, and maybe even the pit. Maybe, just _maybe_ , being bunk buddies with Lucifer wouldn’t be as bad as living through this.

But there was only one way to solve this. _Follow him_ , immediately popped into his mind and Dean really hoped those angels were walking somewhere and not flying.

Sammy, on the other hand looked pleased and had scheming expression on his face.

“Hey, Cas, do you mind putting a couple of books back into the library for me,” Sam asked, very unsuspiciously. Cas put his phone down— _Aha_! Dean thinks to himself—and held out his hands as Sam handed him a few heavy books that they were definitely not done reading. There was still thorough research that still needed to be done and they were wasting time. Dean stared at the phone left on the table.

As soon as Cas was far away enough, Sam and Dean both lunged for the phone at the same time. Of course, Sam got to it first. _Damn your longer arms and legs,_ and Dean was scowling as Sam scrolled through the texts with a wide grin on his face.

Dean’s scowl deepened when Sam’s eyebrows knit together in confusion as he scrolled lower and then his eyes widened in realization. The grin fell off Sam’s face, and _no, keep that smile on your face, please_ , Dean thought.

Dean still doesn’t want Sammy upset because of him. Sam turned to look at Dean and Dean turned to look away.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Sam said softly, but Dean can’t tell whether he’s apologizing for being a fucking dumbass or because Cas was having a date that definitely wasn’t him. Dean slowly started counting to five in his mind because he knew Sam had more he wanted to say.

“So… Hannah?” Sam finally questioned as Dean reached four. Sam offered Dean the phone, and Dean hesitantly took the phone from Sam’s outreaching hand.

“An _angel_ ,” Dean emphasized, because of course an angel would be with another angel even though most of them were emotionless robots. There was nothing pure enough for them besides themselves, because they are holy and absolute, just as He is. But Dean isn't into this religious nonsense, because he has living proof of how much of a _dick_ most angels were. _Most_ , but not Cas.

There was more silence as Dean read through the texts. It was back and forth witty banter, _flirting_ , and the words were the embodiment of happiness.

And because Dean was the most selfish, selfless Righteous Man to ever live, he put Cas’ happiness forty feet in front of his own. He put the phone back to exactly where Cas put it down, and waited, watching the floor of the bunker, for Cas to come back. He snuck a furtive glance at Sam who was awfully quiet, only to see him staring out into the distance and looking like he was thinking hard.

When Cas came back to the room and retrieved his phone, Dean patted him on the shoulder and worked up the happiest smile he could make.

“I’m happy for you, Cas,” Dean said in a casual tone, which should have been _extremely_ easy to pick out, even if you weren’t adept at all to human emotions. But Cas didn't seem to notice, and only tilted his head in slight confusion at the congratulations. _Oh God, that head tilt’l is too much_ , Dean stared as Cas stared back and they end up staring into each others eyes, but this time, Dean couldn't seem to read what Cas wanted to say, and hoped that his own eyes were foggy enough to block out his own thoughts, too.

Sam cleared his throat and Dean looked away. Dean wanted nothing more than to storm out of the bunker like a child, but Cas left before Dean was given the chance to contemplate said option. He sighed and hoped his emotionally stunted angel could find some love or satisfaction or whatever else he wanted.

 _Are you okay with him having sex with a stranger? Someone else kissing him and loving him for all that he is, and Cas loving them right back?_ The voice says.

 _I have to_ , Dean replied, because great, now he was having conversations with himself.

“We have to follow him,” Sam spoke and Dean looked over at him. “For our case.” Dean nodded compliantly at him, and in stupid little moments like these, he’d rather hug his little brother than punch him, but _no chick-flick moments, dude_.

Dean stared at the spot where Cas had stood just moments before, thinking back to his more-than-pleasant dream a couple nights before. _To see the restricted Garden of Eden with Cas_. Not on Earth, but maybe in heaven? But then Dean realizes that this d _ream is impossible_ because Dean isn’t going to heaven. Not anymore, not after all the horrible things he’s done. Dean is going straight back to hell, _he knows for sure_ , and his body twitches and spasms a bit when thinking back to Alastair.

***

Luckily for Dean, Cas _does_ go out walking with his date. With his perfectly fine, well dressed angel date that wasn’t Dean.

But whoever said that Cas even liked males? Here he was, out with a female, or wait, do angels even have gender? Does that mean Cas wasn’t a male?

Sam tapped his shoulder and pointed to a bar. Dean began walking towards it, but turned back to look at Sam in confusion when Dean realized he wasn’t following after him because the only footsteps he heard was his own. This scared him to some extent, because when Dean looked back, Sammy may be gone, _gone in the few seconds Dean turned his back_ , rather than just standing still and being a bitch by choice.

“I’ll stay out here and keep watch,” Sam shrugged in a-matter-of-factly tone, as if there was something to watch for in the first place. Sam gave two thumbs up for extra good luck, and Dean flipped him off. Dean, however, wasn’t opposed to Sam’s decision and quietly continued walking towards the bar.

‘The Divine Cosmics’ flickered in a ugly red color which reminded Dean too much of blood. The sign was shaped like a fucking angel. Ironic and as fucking hilarious as that was, Dean wasn’t in too much of a joking mood.

Bells chimed melodically as Dean walked in, nobody paid him much mind, and his eyes widened immediately at the sight before him. Dean didn’t even try to be discreet anymore, standing at the entrance of the bar, jaw dropped like a fool. If only God gave him the power to unsee things.

There was a man flamboyantly dressed in a suit with orange stripes who was leaning too close to Cas for his own liking. _Ugly ass motherfucker_. Cas wasn’t with Hannah; in fact, it seemed the date was with _this man_ rather than the other angel.

Dean doesn’t know who he prefered more.

The man’s greasy hands were on Cas’ waist, with a tentative little touch going lower and lower until he was practically groping the angel. Cas didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he leaned closer to the man’s face and as if it were a challenge to him, the man smirked at Cas and—

_their faces are too close, oh god_

_they’re kissing aren’t they?_

_they’re been at it for a while_

_don’t they need to breathe?_

_and Cas initiated it_

_and_ Dean tore his eyes away from them when Cas’ brilliant smile was flashed at the other man. _That smile that he rarely gives you, he gives away so easily to a stranger._

Dean felt a spike of anger go through his arm, but _hey_ , wasn’t anger supposed to go through _your heart_? Dean slowly realized what the burning on his arm meant. Maybe this stupid anger had retriggered the mark.

He sighed and rolled up his sleeve. And there was the mark, red and pulsing and alive, as if it were mocking him—

Clutching at the mark, Dean looked up only to find that smug douchebag and Cas was gone. As miserable and lonely as he usually was, Dean still knew what happened when you took someone from a bar home. Where did Hannah go anyway?

Dean unconsciously scratched at the mark while turning the other way to head back out the door. So Cas _did_ like men. He just didn’t like Dean. But it wasn’t as if Cas was Dean’s to lose, anyway. He just thought that because Cas was an angel, he’d steer clear away from this shit. Dean has never been more wrong.

And then Dean felt another flare of anger course through him, this time throughout his whole body. He needed to… he needed to _kill_ and satiate this goddamn mark.

 _Imagine what it would be like to kill that man_ , _Dean_. Shut up. _But you know you want to. Oh, you’d have a great time skinning the son of a mother fucker alive until his voice box gets wrecked and he can’t scream for you to stop. He’d beg for death but you wouldn’t give it to him. No-o, that’d be too easy_.

Shut up, dammit—

Dean swiftly turned a corner and proceeded to crash into the angel occupying his thoughts. Dean fell to the ground in shock from the fall and the realization of who he had to confront.

“Dean! Oh, sorry, are you alright?” Cas apologized in that deep voice of his, holding his hand out as a gesture of goodwill. “What are you doing here?” he asked with good intentions. “Weren’t you and Sam supposed to be on a hunt?” Cas added with a touch of extra pleasantness, as if he hadn’t just destroyed Dean’s whole world only moments ago.

 _Peel that man’s skin off, starting from his fingertips._ Shut the hell up.

Dean glanced up and saw that tousled hair, those lips that were too red, and that oh-so-innocent smile. Another flare of anger coursed through his arm because _I will kill whoever touched you I will claw their fucking throat out and send them straight to hell and then give them a century of hurt and pain and cut—_

Dean slapped the hand away and quickly got up. He was met by Cas’ very confused and hurt expression but h _ey, this is partly your fault too._

“Dean?” Cas said gently, as if he were trying to figure out why Dean was acting this way.

Dean, shaking his head the entire time, turned the other way and ran.

“Wait, Dean!” Dean had forgotten, could angels read human minds? Did they need consent for that too? And the word consent made the images of _Michael_ and _Lucifer_ , who were still rotting in the pit, flash through his mind. What they did seemed kinder compared to the events that just took place. Maybe that was an overstatement, but Dean hated fate anyway. He could control his own life with his God-granted free will or whatever.

Yeah, Dean knows that he sounds like a sixteen year old girl.

 _If you’re suffering, why should the rest of the world live in peace and watch like a bystander? Shouldn’t they suffer your unrest and destruction and apocalypse_? And the craziest thought stuck him. What if he were to-

“Dean!” Dean had tensed but realized the one calling his name wasn’t Cas, but was Sammy.

Sam’s brow was furrowed as he asked, “Hey man, what the hell happened to you?”

Dean glared at him, but it softened up when he saw Sammy flinch back a bit. Dean sighed. He shouldn’t be taking his anger out on his brother, who had literally done nothing wrong but help a hopeless man.

“Absolutely nothing,” was Dean’s curt reply.

“Nothing, huh?” Sam said with obvious disapproval, but Dean had to thank him for dropping the subject for the millionth time. They drove back to the bunker in agonizing silence, with Dean hoping that Cas wouldn't be there waiting for a thorough explanation.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the season finale was a real doozy right? I watched it later than most people, at 5AM in the morning. I was happy and satisfied before watching the episode dammit. Then I teared up and curled into myself.
> 
> Why?
> 
> BECAUSE CROWLEY, MARY, ROWENA, AND THE MOST RELEVANT ONE, CAS.
> 
> No Cain in the chapter yet. Well, there was a little bit him stuck in there.


End file.
